the canterbury pilgrims-第1节

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THE　CANTERBURY　PILGRIMS



The　summer　moon；　which　shines　in　so　many　a　tale；　was　beaming　over

a　broad　extent　of　uneven　country。　Some　of　its　brightest　rays　were

flung　into　a　spring　of　water；　where　no　traveller；　toiling；　as　the

writer　has；　up　the　hilly　road　beside　which　it　gushes；　ever　failed

to　quench　his　thirst。　The　work　of　neat　hands　and　considerate　art

was　visible　about　this　blessed　fountain。　An　open　cistern；　hewn

and　hollowed　out　of　solid　stone；　was　placed　above　the　waters；

which　filled　it　to　the　brim；　but　by　some　invisible　outlet　were

conveyed　away　without　dripping　down　its　sides。　Though　the　basin

had　not　room　for　another　drop；　and　the　continual　gush　of　water

made　a　tremor　on　the　surface；　there　was　a　secret　charm　that

forbade　it　to　overflow。　I　remember；　that　when　I　had　slaked　my

summer　thirst；　and　sat　panting　by　the　cistern；　it　was　my　fanciful

theory　that　Nature　could　not　afford　to　lavish　so　pure　a　liquid；

as　she　does　the　waters　of　all　meaner　fountains。



While　the　moon　was　hanging　almost　perpendicularly　over　this　spot；

two　figures　appeared　on　the　summit　of　the　hill；　and　came　with

noiseless　footsteps　down　towards　the　spring。　They　were　then　in

the　first　freshness　of　youth；　nor　is　there　a　wrinkle　now　on

either　of　their　brows；　and　yet　they　wore　a　strange；　old…fashioned

garb。　One；　a　young　man　with　ruddy　cheeks；　walked　beneath　the

canopy　of　a　broad…brimmed　gray　hat；　he　seemed　to　have　inherited

his　great…grandsire's　square…skirted　coat；　and　a　waistcoat　that

extended　its　immense　flaps　to　his　knees；　his　brown　locks；　also；

hung　down　behind；　in　a　mode　unknown　to　our　times。　By　his　side　was

a　sweet　young　damsel；　her　fair　features　sheltered　by　a　prim

little　bonnet；　within　which　appeared　the　vestal　muslin　of　a　cap；

her　close；　long…waisted　gown；　and　indeed　her　whole　attire；　might

have　been　worn　by　some　rustic　beauty　who　had　faded　half　a　century

before。　But　that　there　was　something　too　warm　and　life…like　in

them；　I　would　here　have　compared　this　couple　to　the　ghosts　of　two

young　lovers　who　had　died　long　since　in　the　glow　of　passion；　and

now　were　straying　out　of　their　graves；　to　renew　the　old　vows；　and

shadow　forth　the　unforgotten　kiss　of　their　earthly　lips；　beside

the　moonlit　spring。



〃Thee　and　I　will　rest　here　a　moment；　Miriam；〃　said　the　young　man；

as　they　drew　near　the　stone　cistern；　〃for　there　is　no　fear　that

the　elders　know　what　we　have　done；　and　this　may　be　the　last　time

we　shall　ever　taste　this　water。〃



Thus　speaking；　with　a　little　sadness　in　his　face；　which　was　also

visible　in　that　of　his　companion；　he　made　her　sit　down　on　a

stone；　and　was　about　to　place　himself　very　close　to　her　side；

she；　however；　repelled　him；　though　not　unkindly。



〃Nay；　Josiah；〃　said　she；　giving　him　a　timid　push　with　her　maiden

hand；　〃thee　must　sit　farther　off；　on　that　other　stone；　with　the

spring　between　us。　What　would　the　sisters　say；　if　thee　were　to

sit　so　close　to　me？〃



〃But　we　are　of　the　world's　people　now；　Miriam；〃　answered　Josiah。



The　girl　persisted　in　her　prudery；　nor　did　the　youth；　in　fact；

seem　altogether　free　from　a　similar　sort　of　shyness；　so　they　sat

apart　from　each　other；　gazing　up　the　hill；　where　the　moonlight

discovered　the　tops　of　a　group　of　buildings。　While　their

attention　was　thus　occupied；　a　party　of　travellers；　who　had　come

wearily　up　the　long　ascent；　made　a　halt　to　refresh　themselves　at

the　spring。　There　were　three　men；　a　woman；　and　a　little　girl　and

boy。　Their　attire　was　mean；　covered　with　the　dust　of　the　summer's

day；　and　damp　with　the　night…dew；　they　all　looked　woebegone；　as

if　the　cares　and　sorrows　of　the　world　had　made　their　steps

heavier　as　they　climbed　the　hill；　even　the　two　little　children

appeared　older　in　evil　days　than　the　young　man　and　maiden　who　had

first　approached　the　spring。



〃Good　evening　to　you；　young　folks；〃　was　the　salutation　of　the

travellers；　and　〃Good　evening；　friends；〃　replied　the　youth　and

damsel。



〃Is　that　white　building　the　Shaker　meeting…house？〃　asked　one　of

the　strangers。　〃And　are　those　the　red　roofs　of　the　Shaker

village？〃



〃Friend；　it　is　the　Shaker　village；〃　answered　Josiah；　after　some

hesitation。



The　travellers；　who；　from　the　first；　had　looked　suspiciously　at

the　garb　of　these　young　people；　now　taxed　them　with　an　intention

which　all　the　circumstances；　indeed；　rendered　too　obvious　to　be

mistaken。



〃It　is　true；　friends；〃　replied　the　young　man；　summoning　up　his

courage。　〃Miriam　and　I　have　a　gift　to　love　each　other；　and　we　are

going　among　the　world's　people；　to　live　after　their　fashion。　And

ye　know　that　we　do　not　transgress　the　law　of　the　land；　and

neither　ye；　nor　the　elders　themselves；　have　a　right　to　hinder

us。〃



〃Yet　you　think　it　expedient　to　depart　without　leave…taking；〃

remarked　one　of　the　travellers。



〃Yea；　ye…a；〃　said　Josiah；　reluctantly；　〃because　father　Job　is　a

very　awful　man　to　speak　with；　and　being　aged　himself；　he　has　but

little　charity　for　what　he　calls　the　iniquities　of　the　flesh。〃



〃Well；〃　said　the　stranger；　〃we　will　neither　use　force　to　bring

you　back　to　the　village；　nor　will　we　betray　you　to　the　elders。

But　sit　you　here　awhile；　and　when　you　have　heard　what　we　shall

tell　you　of　the　world　which　we　have　left；　and　into　which　you　are

going；　perhaps　you　will　turn　back　with　us　of　your　own　accord。

What　say　you？〃　added　he；　turning　to　his　companions。　〃We　have

travelled　thus　far　without　becoming　known　to　each　other。　Shall　we

tell　our　stories；　here　by　this　pleasant　spring；　for　our　own

pastime；　and　the　benefit　of　these　misguided　young　lovers？〃



In　accordance　with　this　proposal；　the　whole　party　stationed

themselves　round　the　stone　cistern；　the　two　children；　being　very

weary；　fell　asleep　upon　the　damp　earth；　and　the　pretty　Shaker

girl；　whose　feelings　were　those　of　a　nun　or　a　Turkish　lady；　crept

as　close　as　possible　to　the　female　traveller；　and　as　far　as　she

well　could　from　the　unknown　men。　The　same　person　who　had　hitherto

been　the　chief　spokesman　now　stood　up；　waving　his　hat　in　his

hand；　and　suffered　the　moonlight　to　fall　full　upon　his　front。



〃In　me；〃　said　he；　with　a　certain　majesty　of　utterance；〃in　me；

you　behold　a　poet。〃



Though　a　lithographic　print　of　this　gentleman　is　extant；　it　may

be　well　to　notice　that　he　was　now　nearly　forty；　a　thin　and

stooping　figure；　in　a　black　coat；　out　at　elbows；　notwithstanding

the　ill　condition　of　his　attire；　there　were　about　him　several

tokens　of　a　peculiar　sort　of　foppery；　unworthy　of　a　mature　man；

particularly　in　the　arrangement　of　his　hair　which　was　so　disposed

as　to　give　all　possible　loftiness　and　breadth　to　his　forehead。

However；　he　had　an　intelligent　eye；　and；　on　the　whole；　a　marked

countenance。



〃A　poet！〃　repeated　the　young　Shaker；　a　little　puzzled　how　to

understand　such　a　designation；　seldom　heard　in　the　utilitarian

community　where　he　had　spent　his　life。　〃Oh；　ay；　Miriam；　he　means

a　varse…maker；　thee　must　know。〃



This　remark　jarred　upon　the　susceptible　nerves　of　the　poet；　nor

could　he　help　wondering　what　strange　fatality　had　put　into　this

young　man's　mouth　an　epithet；　which　ill…natured　people　had

affirmed　to　be　more　proper　to　his　merit　than　the　one　assumed　by

himself。



〃True；　I　am　a　verse…maker；〃　he　resumed；　〃but　my　verse　is　no　more

than　the　material　body　into　which　I　breathe　the　celestial　soul　of

thought。　Alas！　how　many　a　pang　has　it　cost　me；　this　same

insensibility　to　the　ethereal　essence　of　poetry；　with　which　you

have　here　tortured　me　again；　at　the　moment　when　I　am　to

relinquish　my　profession　forever！　O　Fate！　why　hast　thou　warred

with　Nature；　turning　all　her　higher　and　more　perfect　gifts　to　the

ruin　of　me；　their　possessor？　What　is　the　voice　of　song；　when　the

world　lacks　the　ear　of　taste？　How　can　I　rejoice　in　my　strength

and　delicacy　of　feeling；　when　they　have　but　made　great　sorrows

out　of　little　ones？　Have　I　dreaded　scorn　like　death；　and　yearned

for　fame　as　others　pant　for　vital　air；　only　to　find　myself　in　a

middle　state　between　obscurity　and　infamy？　But　I　have　my　revenge！

I　could　have　given　existence　to　a　thousand　bright　creations。　I

crush　them　into　my　heart；　and　there　let　them　putrefy！　I　shake　off

the　dust　of　my　feet　against　my　countrymen！　But　posterity；　tracing

my　footsteps　up　this　weary　hill；　will　cry　shame　upon　the　unworthy

age　that　drove　one　of　the　fathers　of　American　song　to　end　his

days　in　a　Shaker　village！　〃



During　this　harangue；　the　speaker　gesticulated　with　great　energy；

and；　as　poetry　is　the　natural　language　of　passion；　there　appeared

reason　to　apprehend　his　final　explosion　into　an　ode　extempore。

The　reader　must　understand　that；　for　all　these　bitter　words；　he

was　a　kind；　gentle；　harmless；　poor　fellow　enough；　whom　Nature；

tossing　her　ingredients　together　without　looking　at　her　recipe；

had　sent　into　the　world　with　too　much　of　one　sort　of　brain；　and

hardly　any　of　another。



〃Friend；〃　said　the　young　Shaker；　in　some　perplexity；　〃thee

seemest　to　have　met　with